


Scoundrel's Delight

by Dragomir



Category: Warcraft - All Media Types, World of Warcraft
Genre: Blow Jobs, Collars, Flynn really really wants to get railed by Shaw, M/M, Masturbation, Pre-Relationship, Sexual Fantasy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-01
Updated: 2020-01-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:21:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22061740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dragomir/pseuds/Dragomir
Summary: Shaw would be commanding in bed, and Flynn had never been averse to being bossed around in bed if his partner was attractive and had the right personality for it.
Relationships: Flynn Fairwind/Mathias Shaw
Comments: 8
Kudos: 52





	Scoundrel's Delight

**Author's Note:**

> Hey look, I wrote something resembling actual smut! Go me!
> 
> Also, this is gifted to the people in the Fairshaw discord who got to see this one pic from start to finish. I love allayou.

Days off from azerite runs were rare as hen’s teeth for Flynn, if only because everyone needed actual _boatloads_ of it and he was the only one the Fleet actually trusted to do the runs. (Cyrus had probably vouched for him, and Flynn added it to a tally of what he owed the old man - just the latest in a very long list he’d probably never pay back.) He hadn’t had a single moment’s peace since the Alliance sailed back into Kul Tiras’ affairs, and while he liked the ship he’d gotten, he wasn’t so sure he liked the rest of it. He’d gotten along well enough with most of the Zandalari he’d met during his days as a freebooter, and more than a few other Horde members too. And now here everyone was, fighting like the damn dogs in Dampwick. There was something up with that, honestly.

It was the azerite. Probably.

Now was not the time to concern himself with azerite or why Lord Such-and-Something wanted Lady So-and-Whoever blown up, though. Right now was the time to lock the door to his flat over the oddities shop, shove the table in front of the door just in case someone decided they actually desperately needed to talk to him. He was going to indulge himself, possibly by getting hammered, and _definitely_ with some self-indulgent jerking off.

He leaned back against his pile of pillows and blankets - all of them brand new, not a single one secondhand from _anyone_ \- and stretched his legs out in front of him on his equally brand-new sheets. Everything was Alliance colors because they’d brought their own people with them and all of that shit was cheap. And it was getting cheaper because _everyone_ wanted a piece of the mainlanders. Mostly, though, the colors made him think of a certain uptight spymaster, and he reached down to give himself a good stroke, thumb flicking over the ring piercing the head of his cock as he thinks about Mathias Shaw.

Any man who wore a corset in public like _that_ was going to be a kinky bastard, and Flynn honestly wished he could get some of that from the source. Shaw would be commanding in bed, and Flynn had never been averse to being bossed around in bed if his partner was attractive and had the right personality for it. Mathias Shaw had both of those in _spades_ . Hell, he even had the _title_. 

_Master_ Shaw.

Flynn tipped his head back, running the fingers of his free hand over his throat, pressing in as he imagined Shaw wrapping a belt - one of Flynn’s, probably - around his throat for a makeshift collar and leash. He’d let the man drag him around like that, let him make it so tight it left a bruise that lasted for _weeks_ . Let him make it so tight he gasped for air like a fish on the deck, maybe. That’d be _exhilarating_.

He let himself drift into the fantasy he’d gone and given himself, gasping softly as his cock twitched in his hand.

Shaw would push him down to kneel on the floor. Somewhere dark and mysterious, because the man’s cabin on the Redemption was just too…. _open_. Maybe a cell. ...No, an office. Somewhere with a desk and bookcases, low lighting to cast shadows. He imagined being under Shaw’s desk, naked as the day he was born, hands tied behind his back and mouth hanging open a little bit as Shaw stared imperiously down at him, one hand unlacing his trousers to draw out his pretty cock, other hand still holding the end of the belt he’d wrapped around Flynn’s throat.

And - alright, Flynn _might_ have had a thing about getting his mouth stuffed with cock. Really, it was some kind of fixation. Still, though. Shaw’s cock would be _gorgeous_ . He’d have red pubes, soft curls at the base of that gorgeous cock, because that was _not_ a man who’d dye the carpet or the drapes. Flynn clenched his hand tightly around his own cock, jerking roughly as he imagined choking on Shaw’s dick until his nose was buried in those red curls, Shaw breathless over him and choking on his own words until he yanked Flynn back by his hair, spit connecting his cock to Flynn’s mouth in a glimmering strand.

Flynn came with a shout, jerking off his mattress and then falling back, limbs trembling as his cock twitched in his hand.

  
That fantasy, he decided as he pawed around for a rag to clean himself up with, would keep him going for at _least_ the next six months.

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, Flynn really, really wants to get railed by Shaw. Or hold hands with him. Or....basically anything. But this is porn, so we'll go with "get railed".
> 
> Accompanying image for this fic [here](https://twitter.com/TheDragohawk/status/1212214052895821824).


End file.
